


You Strip Away My Pride

by DemonSquipster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Arthur Ketch also needs a hug, Be Nice to Arthur Ketch, Can He Just Have a Hug, Emotional Arthur Ketch, Especially if Your Name is Mick Davies, Everything About This Ship is Beautiful, He’d Appreciate It, I Don’t Know How to Tag Right, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I will fight you if you disagree, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Mick Davies need a hug, Mick and Ketch are made for each other, Pro-Ketch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 20:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12991560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSquipster/pseuds/DemonSquipster
Summary: Mick Davies had put his trust in Arthur Ketch when they were young. He just wishes Arthur could trust him a little more than he does. He can see through the mask Arthur wears, and they both know it.





	You Strip Away My Pride

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more emotional Ketch after War of the Worlds, and we could all appreciate some more of Ketch and Mick together.
> 
> Title is from ‘Sarah Smiles’ by Panic! At The Disco.

He’d been alone for many years, until Kendricks. Mick knew it. They’d both been alone. The warm hands rested on his hips, and the soft sigh that the shorter man had felt on the back of his neck was the only two signs that the man behind him was still there. He’d gotten lost in his thoughts again, as he does. But this time was different. This time, his pain had distracted him further than his thoughts. “You really needn’t linger on this wolf girl, Mick.” The words would sound inconsiderate to anyone who didn’t truly know Arthur, but Mick could hear something else underneath. “One gets used to your coldness,” Mick teased back, his tone sharp and harsh. Arthur rested his forehead on Mick’s shoulder and responded with “one gets used to many things, my dear.” 

Mick finally brought his eyes up from the reflection of his injury to the reflection of his lover. Arthur’s words had left Mick in a wave of confusion, as he pulled away and headed back toward their bed. Words that meant a million things in Mick’s mind, but words he didn’t understand - words he desperately needed to understand. Mick’s eyes followed, as he realized Arthur’s shirt had been stranded on their bed. His eyes wandered over to Arthur’s back, and he internally winced. Arthur rarely let anyone look at his back, except Mick himself (it wasn’t purposeful, Arthur slept without a shirt on mostly, leaving his back clear for Mick to see). The scars left from his childhood had faded over time, as had the memories. It didn’t escape his notice when Arthur woke up, sobbing after a heinous nightmare. Not all of his memories could fade like that. He knew the Brit hated showing emotion; ‘showing weakness’, Arthur phrased it. But Mick understood it enough that he wouldn’t press too much into the matter.

He remembered when Arthur had told him about how Mary asked about it. Mick had gotten mad at himself, for feeling jealousy as he told him. ‘She’d just been someone to blow off steam with,’ Arthur explained. ‘It meant nothing.’ That’s what Mick’d been repeating in his head. Mick shrugged his shirt back on, deciding to stop beating himself up over his shoulder (his shoulder, which Arthur told him would scar over, his sign of his complete failure). Mick followed after Arthur, not bothering to button up his shirt. Arthur’d been standing by the bed, apparently lost in his thoughts. Mick rested his hand over Arthur’s, shooting him a small smile. Arthur returned it with a strained one.

Something was wrong, Mick knew that much. They had an unspoken agreement however; if either one of them ever needed to talk about anything, they could. If Arthur didn’t want to talk about it, he must have had a good reason. They sat down on the edge of the bed together in silence. Arthur raised a hand to Mick’s face, before leaning in for a kiss that didn’t last long enough for either of them. “I guess we’re both damaged now, Mickey boy.” Arthur chuckled, sliding off Mick’s shirt. He ran a gentle hand along one of the cuts, a frown tugging at his lips. “You knew you couldn’t fight for me forever, my sentimental boy,” the Irishman put emphasis on the nickname; he was teasing him with it. Of course it didn’t fully fit now, but that didn’t change the fact that Arthur had at least once been quite emotional. 

Arthur didn’t respond, a thousand thoughts racing through his head. None of them entertaining him enough. “Hey. We’ll get through this, ‘kay? We always do.” Mick wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, pulling him tight against him. He felt Arthur returning the hug. “You’ve got enough hope and optimism to carry us both,” he finally spoke, a smug smirk playing on his lips. “To the dehydrated man, better glass half full than glass half empty,” Mick murmured against Arthur’s lips, before pulling him back against him. “To the starving man, it’d do him no good. And to the drowning man, it’d harm him more,” Arthur managed to get out when they pulled apart. 

Mick sighed. “God, you’re impossible.” Arthur chuckled. “Love, with that intelligent brain of yours, can’t you tell me something I don’t know?” Mick rolled his eyes, and started to pull away before Arthur wrapped his legs around his waist. “Arthur-“ Mick started, but Arthur interrupted with a groan. “Mick, there isn’t enough time in a day for us to be together, and with you running off every minute to go attend to the Winchesters, we get barely any time together nowadays.” He was whining a little, it sounded like to Mick. “Maybe if you spent a little less time batting your eyelashes at Mary Winchester, we could be together more.” Arthur laughed. It was a genuine, clear laugh, one that Mick hadn’t heard in a while, and it didn’t make sense to him, since it was in response to Mick’s frustration. Either way, it suited his lover well, he decided.

“Is that jealousy I hear? Oh no, is Michael Davies jealous of Mary Winchester? Does he think that I’m going to choose her over him, because a couple of hunts and a bit of stress release?” Arthur’s tone was incredibly sarcastic. He raised an eyebrow, and Mick let out a breath of anger. “No, I’m not jealous of Mary. I just wish you’d spend a little less time with her.” Arthur grinned, and Mick was nervous to see how he’d tease him next. “You are. You’re jealous of Mary. Is it the idea of the steam release? Do you miss our intimate moments together?” Mick wasn’t going to lie and deny it, but he also didn’t want to give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing that Mick missed their intimate life. Of course he loved their romantic moments, honestly he believed they didn’t have enough. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss Arthur Ketch’s broken noises. 

“Shut up. Just.. shut it.” Mick’s tone was exasperated, but the smile on his face contradicted it. Arthur’s small laugh was smug, and the smirk on his face went along with it. They sat together, Mick wrapping himself closer in Arthur’s arms. It was silent, but they only needed each other for company. After a long while, but what didn’t seem long enough, the relaxation was interrupted. They’d moved closer to the pillows, laying together, when Mick’s phone went off. The slightly younger man sighed, and sat up, slipping out of Arthur’s arms. Arthur was still laying down, looking quite amused. Mick looked down at his phone. “Fuck, I almost forgot. I have a meeting on the American shifter issues. I’m so sorry, Arthur, if we could just-“ Arthur sighed. “Mick. It’s absolutely fine. Go deal with your meeting, and I’ll be here.” A half-smile danced on Arthur’s lips, as he added “maybe I’ll even contact Mary. We could leave a little surprise for you in our bed.” 

Mick slipped on his jacket, letting out a quick laugh. “Not a good idea, mate. Unless you’re looking for me to start picking fights with the Winchesters.” He walked over to Arthur, and shared a short kiss. “Talk about how I was knee-deep in shifter guts with Mary Winchester for me,” Arthur beamed as Mick started to walk away. “Yeah, and maybe next time I run into Dean, I’ll talk about that time that you near about pissed your pants while giving that presentation at Kendricks.” Mick glanced back at the man on the bed, who scoffed. “I didn’t almost piss my pants,” Arthur pouted back. Mick mumbled something under his breath that Arthur didn’t quite catch, he assumed it was some kind of insult or joke. “Hey. You’re bloody fantastic, clever boy. Go show the British Men of Letters that.” A bright shade of scarlet crossed Mick’s cheeks. “I will. If you’ll keep that adrenaline away from Mary Winchester.” Arthur rolled his eyes, and replied “I can’t make any promises.” 

A pout crossed Mick’s face for a split second, before he shut the door. He left Arthur alone in the room, alone with his guilt and thoughts. But he knew Mick would be back. And he let his long-held fears of abandonment slip away.


End file.
